


5 times Phil Coulson kept Maria's secret (and 1 time he didn't have to)

by agent_wheeler



Series: Maria doesn't get paid enough for this - a series [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Maria and Natasha are a power couple, Pre-Avengers (2012), noone can convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_wheeler/pseuds/agent_wheeler
Summary: “I would have kept your secrets, like a good soldier. I always have.”The thing about it is, Maria can’t even fault Coulson on this one.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Series: Maria doesn't get paid enough for this - a series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174187
Comments: 20
Kudos: 211





	1. One

Some Agents build a reputation for themselves as secret-keepers. Maria knows that’s how Fury rose through the ranks. In some twisted way, Maria supposes she isn’t surprised that Barton is not one of those Agents. Barton wears his heart on his sleeve, and his verbal filter has so many holes in it it’s basically a colander. Nonetheless, Maria’s still surprised when Barton comes to sit opposite her in the cafeteria at the Triskellion and says:  
“Natasha wants to sleep with you but she doesn’t know how to tell you.”

Maria’s not sure how to react to this news. She starts off in shock, but that’s not helpful, so quickly scrolls through disbelief and confusion and ends up with curiosity. Objectively, Agent Romanoff is an attractive woman - no-one would doubt that for a second. But she’s not Maria’s usual type. 

That’s not to say Maria’s never dated a SHIELD agent before - there’ve been a couple, over the last couple of years. But they’ve all been safe bets. Incredibly capable agents able to break you as soon as look at you, of course. But they’ve always been through-and-through SHIELD types. Romanoff’s an unknown quantity. By this point she’s been at SHIELD for eight months, but she’s only been out of deprogramming for three of them. Maria hasn’t seen much of her, she’s not her handler - that’s Coulson’s job - but she hears things on the grapevine, and reads things in the paperwork that crosses her desk. She hears that Romanoff and Barton, collectively, are unstoppable. That there’s nothing they can’t do. 

Maria realises she’s been staring at Barton whilst her internal monologue has been playing catch-up.  
“Not that I don’t trust you, Agent, but do you have any sources to corroborate that?”  
“She asked me what your name is. She’s not even done that for half the Agents we work with on a regular basis.”  
“And so from there you’ve concluded that she wants to fuck me? I’m not sure I follow your logic, Barton.”  
“Just believe me, Hill. You’ll see.”

*

After their conversation, Maria starts noticing Romanoff around a lot more. She’s not sure if it’s deliberate on Natasha’s part, or if it’s just because Maria’s actively paying attention to her more. The weekend after Barton’s surprise announcement, Maria uses her weekly catch-up with Phil to see what he thinks.

They’ve been friends since Maria’s first week out of training, and they’ve had this tradition of drinks or dinner or a film once a week, missions permitting, for a couple of years now. Maria likes it. It’s an opportunity to have a normal evening with a friend from work - a slice of almost-normal in her incredibly abnormal world. This week, they’re at Phil’s flat, drinking room-temperature beer and watching a classic film. 

“Has Romanoff said anything about me to you?” Maria asks, mentally lambasting herself for her lack of subtlety.   
“Why’d you ask?” Phil replies.   
“Barton said something odd to me this week, and I wanted to see what you thought.”  
“I can’t say that she has. I suspect I know what Barton told you, though. If you’re going to pursue that, for the love of God be gentle with her. She’s barely out of deprogramming. I don’t know how she’d react.”  
“You think it’s a bad idea?”  
“For Natasha to build healthy relationships? Absolutely not. But she’s only ever seen sex as a weapon, and I suspect five months of shrink appointments and doctors visits won’t have done much to change that.”  
“She’s _Natasha_ to you?”  
“I’d like to think we’re friendly. I think she likes being called the name she’s chosen for herself, rather than any of the names she’s been given, over the years.”  
An awkward silence descends between the two old friends. They watch the rest of the film in silence. Normally, Maria would offer witty commentary to whatever the storyline was. Today, her mind’s elsewhere.

*

Two weeks later, Maria’s back on the Helicarrier. It’s four in the morning, and she can’t sleep, so she decides to take a walk up to the bridge, to watch the sunrise. It’s not like the Helicarrier is quiet - it never is - and the night-shift team are all sat at their workstations, but no-one bothers her. 

It’s a beautifully clear morning, not a single cloud in the pink-orange sky, but Maria notices that her usual observation point of choice is already occupied. Ignoring the voice in her head telling her to turn around and go back to her quarters, Maria decides to continue on.  
“You’re up early,” she remarks. Romanoff turns around to look at her. Maria finds it difficult to believe that she hadn’t heard her coming.  
“Couldn’t sleep,”  
“It’s pretty, isn’t it,” Maria says, gesturing to the sunrise. Romanoff only hums in agreement.   
“Is this your first time on a Helicarrier?” Maria asks, by way of small talk. Neither of them are looking at each other, instead both standing facing the window.   
“When Barton brought me in I think we were on a Helicarrier for a bit. I don’t really remember though,” Romanoff replies. Maria notes that her accent has faded a lot in the time she’s been at SHIELD. Now, she could almost pass as a home-bred American.  
“It must be weird, thinking back on that time,”  
“I’m not looking for sympathy, Commander,” Romanoff almost snaps.  
“I wasn’t implying that, Agent Romanoff. I just, I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”  
“You’ve read my file.”  
“That’s not the point though. You can’t learn all that much about a person from a piece of paper. I’ve always preferred talking to people as a way of getting a read on them.”  
“Is that what you’re doing? Reading me?”  
“I thought we were just talking. I don’t have an agenda.”  
“I find that difficult to believe.”  
“Well I’m sorry if I came across wrong. I just want you to know that if you ever get sick of Barton’s shit you can come to my office. I can’t promise I’ll be good company, but it’ll be somewhat quieter than Barton’s inane babble.”  
“He’s alright. Considering.”  
“Considering?”  
“He told me about his childhood. About the circus. About losing his hearing. I think he was hoping I’d open up to him in reciprocity.”   
“And did you?” Maria asks. Romanoff shoots her a withering look, and Maria shrugs her concession.  
“I don’t talk all that much. Only really to Barton and Coulson. And sometimes Fury. All of the other agents look at me like they’re scared I’ll kill them.”  
The two women stand in silence a moment longer, before Romanoff turns to leave.  
“I should go to the gym. I’ll see you around, Commander?”  
“My offer of office space still stands. See you around, Agent,” Maria replies, and watches Natasha leave, perhaps staring for a little longer than might be considered professional. Then, movement from the mezzanine catches her eye. Maria groans when she notices Phil. He doesn’t say anything, just looks smug and taps his nose twice.


	2. Two

It takes a while, but eventually Natasha takes Maria up on her offer of hiding from Barton in her office. Maria’s started thinking of her as Natasha too, after the conversation on the Helicarrier. She keeps watching her too. Subtly, from a distance. She notices how other agents will go silent when Natasha enters a room, or how they’ll give her a wide berth in corridors.

Maria and Natasha are filling out their separate paperwork in Maria’s office on a Tuesday afternoon in mid-March when there's a strange noise overhead. They both pause, and look in the direction of the offending noise. There’s a moment of silence, and then the vent cover in the corner of the room falls to the ground with a clatter, and out pop the legs of Agent Barton.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding?” He asks, making a beeline for Natasha.  
“Yes, to get away from you.” Natasha replies, bluntly.  
“You prefer Hill’s company to mine? Natasha you wound me.”  
“Who wouldn’t? She doesn’t ask asinine questions, for one.”  
“You love my banter, don’t lie.”  
“I’d hate to deflate your ego Clint. Does Coulson know you’re here?” Natasha asks.   
“Sort of? I said I’d look for you, he wants to talk to you. And you know I prefer the vents to the corridors in this place.”  
“I don’t understand what goes on in your head sometimes, Agent Barton,” Maria interjects. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you’ve not driven Coulson insane.  
“The day is yet young, Commander.” Barton replies with a wink. Maria wants to throw something at him, but decides Coulson would probably take offence to bodily harm done to one of his assets, so she settles for throwing him a scathing glare instead.   
“Well, now that you’ve found Agent Romanoff, would you care to excuse yourself, Agent Barton?” Maria asks, impatiently, turning her attention back to the requisition request she’d been filling out before Barton had fallen out of the ceiling.   
“You can tell Coulson I’ll be along in a minute. I just want to finish this off,” Natasha says, gesturing to the half-completed after-action report on her lap. Clint offers her a mock salute, and leaves - this time through the door.

There’s another five minutes of silence, before Natasha moves to stand up from the sofa she’d been working on, but she doesn’t make to leave. Maria notices this, and looks up.  
“You alright?” Maria asks.  
“I was wondering if,” Natasha hesitates, and it’s so out of character that Maria can’t help but worry. Natasha continues, “There’s a nice bar that I’ve found downtown. I was wondering if you wanted to go there with me after you finish work one day this week?”  
Maria takes a second to collect herself. Ever since Clint had first mentioned that Natasha might possibly be interested in something non-platonic, she’d been trying to figure out who’d make the first move. She’d not quite resolved to make it herself, but Natasha’s offer seemed so genuine that she couldn’t help but agree.   
“Does tonight work?” Maria asks. Natasha nods.  
“I’ll email you the address, and we can head over together once we’re both finished?” Natasha offers.  
“That sounds good. Although, it might be easier if you just text me? I can give you my number.”   
Natasha puts her work-issue phone out of a pocket on her utility belt, and hands it to Maria, who puts her number in.  
“I’ll see you tonight?” Maria asks. Natasha nods, and leaves.

*

Maria manages to finish work by 7pm, which isn’t all that bad, for her. She gets changed and meets Natasha in the Triskellion’s foyer, and they head to the car park together. Maria’s car, a grey, second-hand Fiat Panda, is parked on the first storey. It wasn’t the world’s nicest car, by a long shot, but it did the job, and meant Maria didn’t have to rely on public transit to get to work each morning.  
With the traffic, it takes about fifteen minutes to reach the bar Natasha had suggested. They find somewhere to park, and head inside. Natasha’s changed into a pair of blue jeans and a leather jacket, but Maria doesn’t doubt that there’s at least one gun and several knives in various places on her person. Maria can’t judge, she’s got a gun sat in the waistband of her own trousers.

The bar is mildly busy, but Natasha leads Maria to a corner table.  
“What do you want to drink?” Natasha asks.  
“What’re you having?” Maria replies.  
“They’ve got some nice craft beers here. I can get you one of those?”  
“I trust your judgement,” Maria says. Natasha seems to consider this response for a moment, before turning and making her way to the bar. Once she’s gone, Maria’s phone buzzes.

 _From: Phil Coulson_  
Enjoy your date! (19:27)

 _To: Phil Coulson_  
I’m not even going to ask. (19:27)

 _From: Phil Coulson_  
Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. (19:28)

Maria groans, silences her phone, and puts it back in the bottom of her bag. She doesn’t need Phil’s meddling.


	3. Three

It’s three weeks after Maria gives Natasha her number that she first receives a text.

 _From: Unknown_  
Clint’s accidentally shot someone in the cafeteria. (13:04)

 _To: Unknown_  
Is this Natasha? (13:04)

 _From: Unknown_  
Yes. I would tell Coulson, but he'll say it’s my fault for giving him a Nerf gun (13:05)

 _To: Natasha Romanoff_  
A Nerf gun? What were you thinking? (13:05)

 _From: Natasha Romanoff_  
He told me he’d always wanted one, and it was his birthday two days ago. (13:05)

 _To: Natasha Romanoff_  
Okay, I’m coming to mediate. You owe me a drink, though. (13:05)

*

By the time Maria reaches the cafeteria, it’s complete Bedlam. Clint is sitting on top of the serving hatch, and there’s a clump of agents gathered around in a group in a corner. Putting on her best Commander voice, Hill approaches them.

“What’s happened here?” She asks.  
“Tymens got shot, fell in panic and broke his wrist,” an Agent Maria can’t quite remember the name of says.  
“Let’s get you to medical,” Maria says, feeling more like a preschool teacher than an a senior leader in a covert government agency. Then again, this is Barton’s doing, so perhaps the toddler metaphor is appropriate.

Maria gets the crowd to disperse, so that the doctor she’s radioed for can arrive and asses the patient. He confirms what the other agent had suspected - broken wrist in two places. Now that the casualty has been dealt with, Maria steels herself to deal with the troublemaker. He’s still sitting on the awning over the serving hatch as she approaches.  
“Agent Barton. My office.” She says, strict as she can manage. Barton gives her a murderous glare, but relents and follows her when she starts walking. A couple of paces behind him, Natasha tags along too, but Maria doesn’t mention it. It’s widely accepted that she and Barton come as a double act now, whether you like it or not.

Once they’re back in the office, Maria gestures for Barton to take a seat opposite her desk. She pages for Coulson to come and join them.  
“Do you want to explain yourself?” Maria says, fixing Barton with a hard stare.   
Barton shrugs. “I was bored.”  
“So bored you broke an Agent’s arm?” Maria says in disbelief.   
“It’s not my fault he fell. Really if his balance is that bad, he shouldn’t even be an agent.” Barton defends.   
“If it was up to me, I’d confine you to the base for a month, see how you fancy being really bored. Unfortunately, that decision-making power lays with your Handler.”  
As if on cue, the security system on Maria’s desk flashes to show there’s someone outside. She presses the green button and the door swings open, revealing a very angry-looking Agent Coulson. He storms into the middle of the room, and fixes Barton in his eye line.  
“And?” He asks, to no-one in particular.  
“I was just explaining to Agent Barton that it’s up to you to decide what disciplinary action he’ll face, Agent Coulson.” Maria explains.  
“I think it’s reasonable to say he can’t leave the base except for missions for the next month, don’t you, Agent Hill?” Coulson says, although Maria knows he isn’t really asking.   
Clint looks like he’s about to protest, but then thinks better of it.  
“Sir?” Natasha pipes up from the corner she’d put herself in.  
“You’re not innocent here either, Romanoff. Aiding and abetting.” Coulson says, although he’s relaxed somewhat. “I think perhaps we should think about withdrawing your exemption from teaching duties. I know you don’t want to work with the new recruits, but I think it’ll help you gain a better appreciation for them, and then perhaps you won’t want to put them in danger.” Coulson says. Natasha looks resigned at this news, but doesn’t try to complain, instead simply shrugging.  
“Right,” Coulson says, clasping his hands together, “back to my office, both of you. You can make a start filling out the paperwork today’s escapade has lumped me with. Thank you for your help, Agent Hill, but I’ll take both of them off your hands now.” 

Coulson leaves, with Romanoff and Barton following, looking suitably chastised, after him.

*

If Maria happens to know what classes Romanoff is teaching in the gym, that’s merely because she oversees a lot of information about the internal running of SHIELD in her role. It’s not like she’s actively sought out that information, and made an effort to clear her schedule so she can watch. Of course not. That’d be weird. 

So, it’s just a coincidence when she’s finds herself in the observation room overlooking the large gym at the Triskellion the next day, at the same time as Natasha is teaching hand-to-hand with a number of fresh-out-the-academy Agents. 

Maria can’t help but smile to herself. Natasha holds her own well as a teacher. Most of the students respect her, and those that don’t soon learn to when she lands them on their arse. In fact, Maria watches almost the entire fifty minute class, entranced by how Natasha moves as she fights. Alone in the observation gallery, Maria feels a sense of smug satisfaction that no-one even needs to know she’d been watching.

Until, that is, with five minutes of the class left, the door to the observation room is pushed open and in comes Phil Coulson, with a shit-eating grin on his face.  
“Agent Hill! What a surprise!” Phil says, still smirking. Maria feels a strong urge to punch the smile off his face, but resists.   
“She’s doing well, Phil.” Maria replies, not rising to his bait.  
“Of course she is. I hadn’t expected you to observe? Don’t you trust me?”  
“No it’s not that,”  
“Then what is it, Maria?”  
Maria doesn’t reply. Phil’s caught her with her hand in the cookie jar, she can’t explain it away.  
“You’re going to have to talk to her about this eventually, you know?” Phil says. Maria rolls her eyes.  
“And what is ‘this’ exactly, Phil?”  
“You know what I mean, Maria.”  
“So in that case you know exactly why I can’t do anything.”  
“You never know. Stranger things have happened.” Phil replies, back to smirking. “Anyway, I should go and debrief Romanoff after that class. I’ll see you around?” 

Phil leaves, and Maria swears out loud.


	4. Four

Just as Maria is working up the courage to ask Natasha if she’d like to go for another drink, Budapest happens, and everything gets blown to hell.  
It should have been a routine operation for Coulson’s team, so routine Maria should never have even heard of it. But there’d been a rotten source somewhere along the line, and everything goes to shit.  
Maria’s in a departmental meeting with the Leading Agents from across the logistics department when her pager beeps. It’s a message from Coulson, and is short and to-the-point:

_Echo Delta November Foxtrot_

It’s coded, obviously, but Maria’s spent long enough at SHIELD that she doesn’t even really read the phonetic code, instead automatically substituting in the information. It’s an emergency broadcast (hence _echo_ rather than _romeo_ (for routine)), concerning STRIKE team _Delta_ , which is the Special Ops unit that’s comprised of Coulson, Barton and Romanoff. _November_ means that it’s an ambush. There’s other codes for other emergencies - _Mike_ is communications failure, and _Oscar_ is for when someone’s been critically shot. The _Foxtrot_ on the end is just for Maria, a note from Coulson, rather than protocol, and is there mostly because it’s unprofessional to swear in internal communications.

Maria adjourns the meeting with a haste that doesn’t escape the other agents in the room. They give her questioning looks, but she’s not going to tell them what Coulson’s said. She hurries out of the 6th floor meeting room she’d been working in at the Triskellion and returns to her private office, to use her secure line to Phil. On her way up to the office, however, she bumps into the Director.  
“Sir?” She says, “Have you heard from Coulson?”  
“Wheels up in ten, if you’re coming,” Fury says, without preamble.

Maria almost runs the rest of the way to her office to grab her go-bag, a habit left over from her time in the army. She arrives at the Fury’s private quinjet landing site with impressive speed. Fury’s already in the bird, but pushes the door open for her to join.  
“What’s happened?” Maria asks as soon as she’s sat down.  
“Barton and Romanoff are trapped in a warehouse in the east edge of the city, and they can’t make the rendezvous point. Because it’s them, there’s no backup in the city, and it turned out that our intelligence about the number of AIM Operatives was wrong by several dozen. Barton’s been shot, I’m pretty sure Romanoff has too, but their comms are going haywire, we think there’s some scrambling being done.”  
“And where’s Phil?”   
“In the Helicarrier,”  
“Oh I bet he’s hating that,” Maria empathised.  
“Exactly, so we’re heading there now, so that we can take over centralised command and Agent Coulson can get down on the ground with a tactical team and try and turn the tide of the firefight. I’ll want you liaising directly with the teams on the ground when we arrive.”  
“Yes, sir.”

*

It takes them a couple of hours to arrive on the Helicarrier, and the atmosphere on the bridge is frantic. Maria and Fury both snap into their directorial personas (not that Maria’s convinced Fury ever turns his off), and attempt to wrangle some order out of the chaos. Once the bridge is quietened, Maria heads up to Coulson’s personal office-cum-situation room, where the man is clearly in a state of panic. His head snaps up when Maria arrives, and throws her a small smile. He’s already got a bag ready to go, and the team he’s taking with him are already assembled.   
“Agent Hill, good, you’re here. Have you been briefed? I can-“  
“Agent Coulson, it’s fine, you can go.” Maria says. Then, after a pause, adds, “get them home safe.”  
Phil gives her a grateful look, and hurried out of the door, his four-man assault team in tow.   
Maria takes a seat in Coulson’s fancy leather wingback chair - which, she remembers, he had brought aboard especially - and starts to go over what she’s seeing on the four displays in front of her. There’s a headset in front of her too, and she puts it on.   
“Radio Check. This is Hill. Do you copy?” She asks into the comms. There’s a harsh static crackle, but eventually it quietens, and there’s a noise at the other end that Maria can just about hear.  
“Hill, this is Hawkeye. Comms crap. What’s the plan?” Barton eventually replies.  
“I’m taking over from Coulson at HQ so he can get to you and coordinate on the group. Can you get me a sitrep?”   
“Copy that. We’re stuck in a warehouse, we’re being shot at. They’re shit shots, but if you fire enough times you’ll eventually hit something, I guess.”  
“What’s the damage?”  
“Widow’s got a through-and-through to the left thigh, but it’s bleeding a lot. I’ve got a nick to my shoulder and another to my left arm. We’re both walking, though.”  
It’s times like this when Maria is intensely grateful for her military training. It enables her to put aside the civilian part of her brain that’s worried for Natasha on a personal level, and means she can just engage the military logistics side of her brain to try and come up with a plan to get two high-value assets out of a hot zone.   
“Coulson’s probably an hour out of your location. Think you can hold it until then?”  
“Hill, we’ve been here for six hours already, what’s another one?”  
“Copy that. I’ll be in touch once I know more. Have you been able to get Na-Widow’s wound wrapped?”  
“Yes, mother,” Barton says, and Maria is sorely tempted to roll her eyes. Even in life-threatening situations, Barton’s still a little shit.   
“Good. Hill out.”

*

With the extra fire power, it only takes two hours from the time Coulson arrives in Budapest for him to neutralise the ambush, and retrieve Barton and Romanoff. Maria can’t bring herself to look away from her computer screens until she knows they’re all back on a Quinjet heading back to the Carrier. She pulls her comms off her head and scrubs her hand over her tired eyes. There’s a tension headache lurking somewhere in the back of her skull. Coulson’s team had had to be radio silent, so it’d fallen to Maria to keep the rest of STRIKE team Delta informed on their imminent rescue. Romanoff’s earpiece had been lost at some point in the initial assault, so Maria had been talking to Barton the whole time, and honestly she didn’t know how Coulson did it every day. Once that boy was out of medical, she was going to bash his head against a wall.

The hour it took for the Quinjet to return to the Carrier was a tense one. The medical team was preparing to take both Barton and Romanoff into emergency surgery. Maria had taken to pacing in circles in Coulson’s office. She runs the same thought round and round in her head. She knows she should be equally concerned for the wellbeing of both Barton and Romanoff, but she’s not. And she knows it’s not because Barton’s an annoying shit. Instead, it’s because Romanoff has managed to worm her way in to Maria’s life in a way she hadn’t expected. _This_ , Maria reminds herself, _is exactly why it’s a terrible idea to pursue anything with her_. It wouldn’t be fair. Maria knows she’d never let anything get in the way of her work, and Natasha deserved better than that, so she’d have to quash her own emotions. Moments of weakness got people killed in this line of work.

She’s pulled from her thoughts by the door opening, and Fury striding in. He doesn’t say anything, just gives her a look, but she knows what it means. They’re here. Fury turns on his heels and walks straight out again, and Maria follows. She’s relieved to see that Coulson isn’t also in a hospital bed. Instead, he’s pacing around the waiting area.   
“How are they?” Maria asks him.  
“They’ll be fine. Romanoff’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s done worse before. Barton’s just whining, but medical want to check him out anyway.”  
“And you?”  
“I’m fine, Maria. I barely left the jet, you know this.”  
“I’m allowed to worry about you, Phil. This is the first time you’ve had a Delta Op go this badly wrong. I’d understand if you’d put yourself at risk to save your team.”  
Phil doesn’t respond, just fixes Maria with a thoughtful look.  
“She’s out of surgery, if you want to see her, you know,” Phil says, quietly. “She’s not awake, but I can tell that you want to reassure yourself that she’s alive.”   
Outwardly, Maria glares at Phil, but inwardly she’s feeling relief. “Which room?” She asks. Phil gestures to one down the hallway, and Maria walks towards it.

Maria’s always hated hospital rooms in general. The last one she’d been in had been when her father was hospitalised after his fourth stroke. She hadn’t wanted to go back to Chicago to see him, but Fury had insisted she take personal time. He’d died about six months later, but Maria hadn’t even mentioned the funeral to Fury. She’d buried herself in work and ignored it.

But now, seeing the petite redhead looking even paler than usual on the hospital bed, covered in wires and tubes and surrounded by machines and monitors, Maria feels a pang of dread that she’d never felt with her father’s medical maladies. Like Phil had said, Natasha was out cold, but her left hand is outstretched. Maria isn’t sure if it’s her place, but she sits on the small plastic chair next to the bed and takes Natasha’s hand in her own.

*

Maria doesn’t notice when she falls asleep herself, she only notices waking up at the sound of a knock on the door. It’s Phil, and he walks into the room, looks at where Maria hasn’t let go of Natasha’s hand, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves to stand on the other side of Natasha’s hospital bed.  
“What’s stopping you?” Phil asks. He doesn’t elaborate, but Maria knows exactly what he’s talking about.  
“It’s not right. I can’t give her the attention she deserves. The job always has to come first.”  
“That’s exactly what she’d want. Can’t you see that?”  
“She deserves better,” Maria says, firmly, not meeting Phil’s eye.  
“But she isn’t going to find better. Think about it, she doesn’t have anything outside of SHIELD. And even then, the list of people within SHIELD who I’d trust to do right by her is very short.”  
“Oh, you’ve got a list? That’s reassuring.” Maria says, dismissively.  
“Think about it. Most of Natasha’s friends are also Operations Agents. She spars with May a lot, but May’s unavailable. I’ve seen her with Morse once or twice, but I think that’d end in tears, or possibly in nuclear war. Barton’s not available, and I’m the only other person she talks to. That leaves you.”  
“You’re really not selling this, Phil. So, what, I’m the best of a bad bunch? Great.”  
“But you’re interested, and you know she’s interested in you. I don’t see what you’ve got to lose.”  
“I- I just can’t, Phil. Even if something happens, I can’t risk the impact on our professional lives when it inevitably ends.”“Why are you talking about it ending? Why have you already decided it’s got to fail?”  
“Because I’m me! Because I don’t do personal! I’ve got my ‘ice queen’ persona for a reason. I don’t do close. It’s not how I’m wired. And I can’t risk my career over casual sex. It’s got to be all or nothing.” Maria says, voice pitched at a whisper-shout, very aware of the sleeping woman between them.   
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I wish you were more like Barton.” Phil says. Maria’s mouth falls open.  
“I can explain! He’s generous with his heart. He’s been through shit, he’s been betrayed and backstabbed since he was a kid, but he still loves with everything he has. He jumps in with both feet, and somehow always manages to stick the landing! And if he wobbles, he’s got friends around him,” Phil rushes. Maria feels her outrage at being compared to Barton subside somewhat.   
“Just, think about it, okay?” Phil says, in a much softer tone.   
“I’ll think about it,” Maria acquiesces. Suddenly, the hand in hers tightens, and Natasha’s sleeping body starts to move. It takes a moment, but her eyes slowly open, and turn to her left. Then, barely louder than a whisper, she croaks out, “Maria?”  
From across the room, Phil gives Maria a knowing look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes this was longer than I meant it to be! Thank you all so much for reading. Comments make my day :)


	5. Five

Clint’s discharged from the infirmary the next day. Mostly, Maria suspects, it’s because he’s annoyed the crap out of all of the doctors, and so they’ve let him go, against their better judgement, purely for some peace and quiet. He’s confined to base until he can pass a physical, though. 

This goes down like a lead balloon, obviously. If she wasn’t convinced that handling Barton was a punishment from God for Coulson for something he’d done in a previous life, she’d almost feel bad for the man, having to deal with Barton’s pent-up energy. 

Maria’s getting lunch in the cafeteria, when Phil shoots her a desperate look. Barton’s sat next to him, talking at a thousand miles an hour. Maria understands what the look means. It’s the withering exasperation of a man on his last legs. She takes pity on Phil and walks to sit opposite him, acknowledging him and Barton as she sits down. There’s about 0.5 seconds of silence, before Barton is back talking at the speed of a machine-gun. Maria chooses to tune it out and instead focus on her curry. 

“She talked about you, you know,” Barton says. Maria doesn’t react, but then Barton kicks her under the table. She looks up, scowling. Barton repeats himself:  
“She talked about you.”  
“Who?”  
“Who’d you think,” Barton says, with unnecessary sarcasm.  
“Agent Romanoff?”  
“Yes, Maria, _Natasha_. She was _dying_ , and she wanted to talk about _you_ ,” Barton says, with heavy emphasis.  
“And?” Maria asks, aiming for nonplussed, but not quite managing it.  
“She thinks you’re deliberately ignoring her to let her down gently,”  
“What? Why?”  
“Christ, Phil, help me here,” Barton says, turning to the man sat on his right. Phil just shrugs, helplessly.  
“God, you’re no use,” Barton continues. “Yeah, she’s not said anything to you, because she wants to respect your right to say no. I thought it was men who were supposed to be bad at talking about their feelings? I think you two might be worse.”  
“I’m not sure Romanoff and I are great examples for typical female behaviour,” Maria says.  
Barton nods, “okay, you’ve got a point there. But still. You’re both bloody useless. I swear, if you don’t do anything before she ships out for California, I’ll lock you both in a store cupboard and not let you out until you’ve dealt with it.”  
“Natasha’s going to California?” Maria asks, rather than rise to Barton’s threat. Barton realises that this wasn’t something he was supposed to say, and shoots a look at Phil that could almost be understood as apologetic. Phil smiles gently.  
“Yes, she’s not combat cleared, but Fury wants her working shadow in California pretty much as soon as we land in D.C..”  
“For who? There’s no-one important down there at the moment is there? Unless…”  
“Unless?” Phil asks.  
“I mean, I know Fury was talking about getting someone on Stark, after that intelligence came through about him? But, that’s not Natasha’s game. Fury wouldn’t make her pull that kind of mission.”  
“Wouldn’t he?”  
“Motherfucker!” Maria exclaims. She wonders when she’d let her guard down to Fury sufficiently that she’d forgotten he was the Director of a world-class espionage agency. Of course the Stark case needed someone who’d flirt with him. Maria had just assumed that they’d send someone else. Coulson had always made a point that Natasha was too skilled to work sexpionage, as it had been coined, any more. Besides, SHIELD was supposed to be above such things. Clearly, something had changed.  
“Phil, you can’t be happy with this?” Maria asks, trying to get her head around the situation.  
“She’s the only Level 6 available at the moment. Otherwise we’d have to read someone else into the Avengers Initiative,” Phil explained. Clint shoots him an offended look.  
“Okay,” Phil concedes. “Barton could technically have taken it, but I don’t think you’re Tony’s type - no offence.”  
Barton only looks mildly placated by this explanation. “I’m sure I could convince Stark,” he whines.  
“Besides, Fury wants a psychological profile done on Stark, and Natasha has a knack for reading people like I’ve never seen.”  
“I can’t believe Fury hasn’t given up on the Avengers Initiative. It’s his ego run wild,” Maria says, shaking her head. She’d filed two complaints about Fury’s ‘pet project’ to Secretary Pierce, but they’d largely been ignored.  
“I don’t think Stark’s given him much choice. After he went public as Iron Man last year, it put the whole situation back on Fury’s radar. But he’s had the project going on the back-burner for as long as I’ve known him,” Phil explains.  
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Maria grumbles. “Has Romanoff been briefed yet? The doctor said she’d woken up lucid a couple of times?”  
“Not yet. She’ll probably be stuck in medical for another few days, and then she’ll deploy at the end of next week, hopefully. I don’t think the wound will set her back physically very much. Besides, the whole point of this assignment is that Stark doesn’t know she could strangle him with her pinkie, so maybe it’s not a disaster if she’s not back at 100 percent?”  
“Let me know if she wakes up properly?” Maria asks. “I’d like to see her before she goes.”  
Phil nods. Maria’s just about finished shovelling lunch into her mouth.  
“She’ll be pleased to see you,” Phil says, as Maria gets up to leave.

*

After she finishes work that evening, Maria heads down to medical. She’s managed to finish up at an almost-sociable time, and even though she hasn’t heard anything from Phil, she figures she’ll drop in an check Natasha’s okay.

The medical area of the Helicarrier is almost silent as Maria walks through the waiting area. She walks straight through to where she knows Natasha is. That’s one of the perks of being Fury’s right hand - no-one questions her when she walks with purpose. They probably just assume she’s off to some incredibly-classified briefing. 

To Maria’s surprise, Natasha’s sitting up in the hospital bed when she opens the door. Maria smiles, shyly.  
“Have you come to break me out of here?” Natasha asks, earnestly.  
“No, Romanoff, you have to stay until the doctors say so,”  
“You’re no fun, Maria.”  
“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Barton,” Maria chastises.  
Natasha scowls. Maria moves to sit on the plastic chair where she’d kept vigil when Natasha had first been brought in.  
“How’re you feeling?” Maria asks.  
“Better, considering I got shot in the leg less than 48 hours ago. Are you here with a mission brief?”  
“Can’t I just come visit because I’m worried?” Maria retorts. Natasha quiets, and Maria could swear that a tiny crack appears in Natasha’s perfectly formed mask of professionalism.  
“Is Clint okay?” Natasha asks.  
“He’s fine. He’s up and about and driving Coulson up the wall, as per usual.”  
“God, that poor man,”  
“I’m grateful I’m not in the business of being a handler,” Maria admits.  
“Coulson’s good,”  
“He’s one of the best,” Maria agrees. 

There’s a moment of silence.

“Are you really here because you were worried about me?” Natasha asks, almost meekly.  
“Yes, Natasha.”  
“You never call me Natasha,” she says in a small voice.  
“Is it okay?” Maria asks, worried that she’s overstepped - that despite Clint’s pep talk/threatening session at lunch, she’s somehow got her wires crossed.  
“Yeah, it’s fine. I like it,” Natasha says. There’s a ghost of a smile settling across her face. “Am I allowed to call you Maria, Commander?” She asks.  
“Yeah, if you like.” 

Maria looks down at her hands, wringing them together to give her something to do that isn’t just staring at Natasha. 

“Phil’s got work for you, once you’re up and about,” Maria says. It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, but defaulting back to talk about work moved the conversation back onto safer ground.  
“Is it something fun?” Natasha asks, with a yawn. Maria fights the impulse to yawn too.  
“That depends. Does Tony Stark count as fun?”  
“Absolutely not. Dammit, Coulson!” Natasha exclaims. “Fuck, if that’s what he wants me doing, I might try and get some more sleep now. I think I’ll need it if I’ll have to put up with Stark for an extended period.”  
“That sounds sensible,” Maria acknowledges. Natasha moves to curl up on one side, but at the last moment remembers that she’s still hooked up to all manner of medical machinery. She rolls back onto her back.  
“Mind if I stay and read a while?” Maria asks. “I could do with some peace and quiet away from a grounded Clint Barton.”  
Natasha smiles. “Sure thing, Maria.”

It takes about ten minutes for Maria to notice that Natasha’s breathing has evened out. She’s asleep. From her trouser pocket, she pulls out her notebook and pen, and scrawls a note. It’s not long, nor is it overly sentimental - Maria can’t help it, that’s who she is. It reads:

_Natasha,  
Hopefully I don’t wake you. I need to head back to my quarters. I’d meant to ask you in person, but I didn’t manage it before you fell asleep. Would you want to go for another drink before you go to Cali?  
Yours,  
Maria_

Maria leaves the note on the bedside table, and heads out of the medical wing. She makes a quick detour via her office to pick up some files that she promised herself earlier that she’d read before tomorrow. She’s just settled down with the first of them, and a mug of green tea, when her phone buzzes from where she’s put it down on her coffee table.

 _From: Phil Coulson_  
I didn’t have you pegged as one for love letters! ( _19:47_ )

 _To: Phil Coulson_  
I’d meant to ask, but she fell asleep. ( _19:47_ )

 _From: Phil Coulson_  
Sure… ( _19:48_ )

 _From: Phil Coulson_  
Don’t worry, I won’t show the note to Barton. ( _19:48_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a hot second since I updated this!  
> thank you so much for reading :)


	6. plus One

It happens on a Tuesday in mid-September. Of course, they’d all known it was going to happen - it’d been in the news for months. So much so, the day it happens, nothing even feels all that different, Maria thinks. 

It wasn’t like Fury cared. Hell, ex-armed forces personnel who’d been let go because of the policy had been his number one source for recruiting for SHIELD. But as independent as SHIELD could be, for as long as it had been operating under the oversight of Secretary Pierce, and the US Department of Defense, Fury had had to at least pretend that he was enforcing Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.

That was the reason Maria had been so nervous with Natasha. She’d already lost one job because of her sexuality, she sure as hell wasn’t prepared to lose a second. So, the job had to come first. And, of course, working for a global security and surveillance agency had made Maria realise quite how little of her private life was actually entirely private. And so, as deputy director, there could be no room for mistakes, no room for anything that could possibly be reported to Pierce.

After the excitement in New Mexico with the Norse God, everything had moved to working at warp speed. Phil, Clint and Natasha had gone back to being STRIKE Team Delta, jetting off around the world at the drop of a hat. Maria had never felt the burden of her security clearance more acutely.

She spends the long, hot summer of 2011 in the south west, leading the SHIELD delegation to the NASA project working with the Cube. She flies to DC a few times a month to check in with Fury, but mostly, she doesn’t see anyone outside of the confines of the research facility. It’s lonely, but it’s the work Maria thrives on. She’s a logistician above anything else she’ll pretend to be, and the aftermath of the Thor incident has given everyone at the base new purpose. Until then, all the work PEGASUS had done with the Cube had been purely peaceable. But now? Now was Phase 2. Now, Maria was working with the best and brightest from across SHIELD to develop handheld weapons, in case Thor and his bitch little brother decided to have another grudge-match. It was important work.

It was also work that was at least two security clearance levels above that of any of Maria’s friends. That made it lonely work. Not that Maria had seen hide nor hair of any of STRIKE Team Delta in months. They had no reason to be in the southwest, and she was never in D.C. when they were. Occasionally, she’d get an email from Phil, exchanging pleasantries, but clearly Fury had told him that Maria was on a classified assignment, so he didn’t pry. 

*

In the middle of September, Maria gets a text. It’s late, but she’s sat in her office, scrolling through emails, even though she’s already replied to all of them. Hell, it’s not like there’s much else to do.

_From: *withheld number*_  
Think you could find yourself in DC night of the 20th? V and I throwing a thing, would love to see you. IH x (18:12)

Maria smiles, and laughs quietly. She re-reads the text twice more, but there’s only one IH who’d have her personal cell number. She’s pleased. She’s known that Izzy and Vic have been friends for a long time, and she’s now it seems that her suspicions are confirmed. She’s never really trusted her ‘gaydar’ before, but it seems like she’s not been that far off in this case. She pulls up her calendar, and books Tuesday afternoon off, and all of Wednesday. She’ll still be able to reply to emails, if the base decides to implode. She replies to Izzy:

_To: *withheld number*_  
I’ll be there. Miss you! M x (18:18)

Maria wonders who else will be there. She knows it’s unlikely that Coulson’s team will be able to book time off in advance. She’s never really spent that much time thinking about who else at SHIELD would be celebrating the repeal. Maria decides to log off her computer, return to her quarters, and have a pre-celebratory beer.

*

Tuesday, 20th September 2011 dawns like any other day. The whole morning, Maria could have been forgiven for thinking nothing has changed. But for Maria, everything has changed. Today’s the first day, since she first started working in Defense way back in 2002, that she can bring her whole self to work. There’s no checking herself before she acts. There’s no worrying she’ll say something that’ll make people look at her sideways. 

After a working lunch with the NASA executive team, Maria flies to D.C. She doesn’t requisition a private flight, but she does make the trip in a quinjet with a couple of other SHIELD staff who’re travelling up north for work. She’d planned to go straight to her apartment to get ready, but she decides to make a detour to the Triskellion first.

If the difference was undetectable at NASA, the staff of the Triskellion have really gone all-out. The huge eagle statue in the foyer has been draped with a pride flag, and there’s rainbow bunting in the lift that Maria takes up to the Director’s office. She’s surprised when Fury’s PA tells her that the Director is willing to see her straight away - she’d been expecting to have to wait, given she’s not got an appointment and has shown up out of nowhere. She pushes open one of the heavy double-doors into the penthouse office.  
“Hill. I wasn’t expecting you?” Fury says, looking up from his computer. Maria smiles back at him. She’d half expected to have a crisis of confidence at this moment. She’d been mentally rehearsing it during the flight, and she could barely get the sentence out.  
“It was a last-minute decision to come up, Sir. I wanted to be in DC to celebrate.”   
“Celebrate, Hill?” Fury asks. _Little shit_ , Maria thinks, _he’s being deliberately difficult and he’s going to make me spell it out._   
“Director Fury, I’m in the city to celebrate the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”  
“Maria, you can’t really think this is news to me?” Fury asks, a shit-eating smirk on his face.  
“No Sir. I just - that’s the first time I’ve said that out loud. It’s - it’s a lot.” Maria confesses.   
“Well, I’ll see you at Hartley’s tonight then?” Fury says, and Maria has to be very careful not to let her jaw hit the floor.

*

Hartley’s place is just over the river, in Virginia. It’s a generic suburban house, with a fence and a front lawn. It’s not really what Maria had her pinned for, but when Izzy opens the door, Maria can’t help but notice how comfortable she seems in the house. It works, somehow, as part of her Mom-with-knives vibe that only Izzy could hope to pull off.  
“Maria! Oh, come in. It’s so good to see you.” Hartley says, pulling Maria into a hug.  
“It’s wonderful to see you too, Izzy. Who else is here?”  
“Oh, it’s quite a good turnout! I mean, Vic and I invited like two dozen people, and there’s maybe like fifteen here? It’s mostly people Vic works with, so you might not know them all that well. I invited a couple of folk from my team, and also Coulson’s lot, but he said he’d drop in if he could, but that he couldn’t promise anything,” Izzy shrugs. 

The two women walk through into the open-plan kitchen-diner. The kitchen island is covered in a selection of drinks and snacks, and the room itself is busy with people chatting. Maria gets a drink, and then heads over to Izzy.  
“Maria, have you met Bob?” Izzy asks, gesturing to the blonde women she’s been talking to.  
“Bobbi! Oh, it’s good to see you. It’s been too long!” Maria exclaims, embracing the taller woman.  
“How did you two meet?” Izzy asks.  
“Oh, I did Maria’s drills test when she first joined SHIELD. I’ve known her since she was a little baby agent.” Bobbi says, smiling.  
“Shut up Morse, I joined at a higher security clearance than you,” Maria defends. 

Maria’s catching up with Victoria - someone else she’s not seen properly in years - when the doorbell rings. It’s hard to hear over the hubbub, but as soon as it sounds, the room goes silent. Maria looks at Izzy and raises an eyebrow. Realistically, Maria knows it could be anyone at the door, but the irrational part at the back of her brain really wants it to be Coulson’s team. As much as she’s enjoying the party so far, it only seems right that Natasha should be there. After all, the rules of the game have changed now, and Maria wants to know what happens next.

*

The last time she’d seen Natasha had been whilst Coulson and Barton were dealing with Thor. They’d both found themselves at a loss for something to do with a Thursday evening, and so Maria had found Natasha lurking outside her office at the Triskellion in the way only a world-renowned super-spy can lurk, and Maria had invited her for a drink and takeaway in her apartment. They’d hung out a couple of times since Natasha had returned from playing PA to Tony Stark, and it had been nice. They’d maintained their relationship solely in the realm of friendship, and it seemed to be working. Maria had rationalised to herself that she could make do with this. She was grateful for any time the other woman wanted to spend with her, and Natasha had given no signal that she wanted anything else to happen.

They’d got the public bus back to Maria’s apartment building, and she’d immediately ordered pizza delivery. She got two beers out the fridge, opened them, and set them down on the coffee table next to the sofa where Natasha was sitting, flicking through some crappy free magazine. Maria takes a swig of beer, as Natasha turns to watch her.

“Before he left, Clint told me that I should talk to you more. I don’t get what he means. We’re friends right? We hang out?” Natasha says.  
“Yeah, we’re friends. Honestly, I’m surprised you listen to half the shit that comes out of Barton’s mouth. I’m impressed Phil puts up with it,” Maria replies.  
“You should meet his wife, she’s a saint,”“Wife? Wait, Barton’s married?” Maria asks, genuinely shocked. A look passes over Natasha’s face, like she’s said something she shouldn’t.  
“Yes, but it’s a secret. Only Coulson and Fury know. And me. And now you. He’s got a kid and everything. You should see him. He’s a good dad.”  
“You’ve visited?”  
“I’ve spent Christmas with them for a couple of years now. It’s very kind of Barton to invite me, and it beats setting around in my tiny little SHIELD apartment,” Natasha explains, hugging her knees.  
Maria isn’t sure if she’s seen Natasha let her guard down this much around her before. Normally, when they hung out in a bar, Natasha maintained a cool professionalism. But this was new, and Maria found herself drawn to the woman on her couch.  
“What do you think Barton means then?” Natasha asks.  
“About?”  
“About us,”  
“I mean, I enjoy it when we hang out together. I enjoy your company.”  
“As a friend?”  
“Of course you’re my friend!”  
“That’s not what I’m asking, Maria,” Natasha says, quietly. There’s a pause.  
“What are you asking, then, Nat?” Maria asks, hoping to make Natasha spell it out, so she doesn’t have to do it herself. It’s cowardly, but Maria can’t bear to misstep here.  
“I’d like to kiss you. If that’s okay?” Natasha says. She gives Maria a moment to object, but then she draws even closer to Maria on the couch. Natasha’s hand reaches for Maria’s jaw, and Maria’s surprised by how cold it is, but she leans into it nonetheless. There’s another pregnant pause, another chance for Maria to pull away, but she doesn’t. 

The kiss doesn’t last long. That’s not to say that it’s not a good kiss, because _damn_ , Maria thinks, _that woman can kiss_. Instead, it’s only brief because Natasha pulls away when she feels Maria go still under her hands after a few seconds of relaxing.  
“Was that-? Did I misunderstand?” Natasha asks, hurrying to put some space between the two women again.   
“No, Nat. I liked it,” Maria says, quietly, reaching to put a hand on Natasha’s knee. “I just can’t do this right now. It’s not fair on you. It sucks, but we both work for an espionage agency and technically, this is a crime.”  
“Fucking bullshit,” Natasha laughs. “Come on, Maria, don’t you trust me to keep quiet?”  
“It’s not that,” Maria says, shaking her head. “It’s not fair on you. It’s not the relationship you deserve. I want to be able to support you, all day, every day. But they’re changing the law, this year. Maybe then, once I don’t have to choose between my heart and my job, we can try this again?”   
Maria’s careful with her tone and her words, but Natasha’s shoulders still slump. Maria’s about to try again, when the doorbell rings. Grateful for the interruption, Maria goes to collect the pizza. 

They don’t mention the kiss again for the rest of the evening. They eat their pizza and watch trash on the television, hug goodnight and go their separate ways. That night, Maria dreams about what might have happened if she’d been a little braver. 

*

Maria lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding when they enter the room. It’s clear that they’re only just back in town from wherever they’d been. They’re all still in uniform - Clint and Natasha in tactical suits, and Phil in his trademark grey suit. Maria smiles in their general direction, and Phil makes a beeline for her.   
“You made it!” She exclaims, when he’s next to her.  
“Someone said we couldn’t miss it,” Phil explains.  
“Well, Izzy is determined when she wants to be,” Maria replies.  
“Not Izzy,” Phil says with a small smile, as Maria is tapped on the shoulder from behind. 

She turns, and it’s Natasha. Her hair is still tied back from her mission, but she’s found herself something to drink.  
“Hey, you,” Maria says, smiling.  
“You made me a promise,” Natasha says, swirling her drink in her cup. “I wanted to see if my offer still stood.”  
There’s a moment’s silence. Natasha seems to mistake Maria’s pause as indecision.  
“Masha?” She says, so quietly Maria almost misses it, looking up into Maria’s eyes. 

The last of Maria’s hesitation melts away. She’s waited for this. She wants this. She closes in to Natasha and gives her the passionate kiss she’d been too scared to give that day on the sofa, months ago. It’s unlike any kiss Maria’s ever had. It’s so far removed from any of the kisses she’d ever given her string of fake boyfriends when she was in the army that she wonders why she even tried to pretend. It’s like a harbour in a storm, and it’s wonderful and Maria doesn’t want it to end.

Eventually, the need for air becomes pressing, and the two women break apart. The whole room has fallen silent, all eyes on them. Maria feels her face flush red, but Natasha reaches for her hand and squeezes it.

Then, from the back of the room, there’s a jeer: “Jesus, get a room!”

Maria flips Coulson the bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that got long. it wasn't supposed to, but I re-watched endgame today and it made me emotional and so this happened. thank you so much to everyone who's read this story and for all your lovely comments! :)


End file.
